The Pathfinder
by Wildbull
Summary: León Ricardo de Lorenzo a.k.a. Pathfinder is Vargas' son, gifted with his abilities and much more. Leader of his father's Henchmen, spoiled and rich... He's completely unaware of the dramatic changes that will shake his life of vice and corruption soon.


--- The Pathfinder—

Part 1:

Rediscovering the path

My name's _León Ricardo de Lorenzo_; which means two things, first off that this is obviously not my real name, and secondly, that I'm Spanish. My father is the evolutionary turning-point and crime-lord only known as Vargas and I work as a hunter ( a hound would be more accurate ), leading his Henchmen with the help of my girlfriend Karla. What is my secret ? Inherited reflexes, agility and stamina that place me light-years above the most resourceful mutant, altogether mixed with powers of undetermined nature that researchers and book-worms call "_Environmental awareness_". It's a very refined and honed form of ESP, an intricate amalgam of precognition, low level telepathy and global-range empathy that make me the ultimate psychic GPS system, I can find anything or anyone, I virtually can't get lost, I always know where my car is parked.

_They call me Pathfinder._

Right now, I can scarcely determine where I am, acrid sweat getting into my eyes, everything blurred, my long silvery hair waving following my frenetic body movements, a repugnant after-taste of whiskey, beer, wine and vodka going from my stomach to my throat and vice-versa ad naueam, some techno-trance theme from some hard-core group from Valencia, faintly echoing in my mind.

_I'm loaded_.

Karla grabs my arm firmly, as I said before she's my sweetie, the most wonderful woman I have ever known, beautiful, risky, lusty… so full of life that every second with her it's an adventure.

— _Come on dancer, this place is getting boring, let's go home_. – She yells, her wonderful voice being killed by the loud music and the background noise.

_--I don't wanna go home, I like this song—_I reply like a whining baby.

But I can't do anything, first thing I learnt about our relationship is that you can't contradict her. She gets the bottle of champagne we have on our VIP lounge, and I find myself staggering outside, a gentle night-breeze caressing my wet face.

_--Tomorrow we have some hard work to do_.—She explains solemnly.

You all know what sort of work I do, and I don't mind as long as I can go on with this life: Karla, loads of money, parties, expensive cars, alcohol, drugs, power…

_Am I trying to justify myself_? Of course not. I'm in peace with myself.

_Am I_?

I wake up the next morning with a hell of a head-ache, Karla is sleeping next to me, with that blissful pseudo-smile of post-coitum relaxation. I swallow three aspirins and take a shower. I don't want to make my father wait. I dress in my Henchmen clothes, a mixture between Aragorn from _Lord of the Rings_ and a paramilitary officer, the kind of uniform that implies authority but will protect you if you had to spend days, even weeks in the forest… Hunting…I sheathe my two swords ( a gift from my father for my 18th birthday, forged by himself ), some people would call me old-fashioned, but as Vargas I don't rely on technology, just on steel.

Karla and I arrive to my father's Chamber, the other Henchmen, Unholy and Gargoyle are waiting for us. My father's presence is grandiloquent, he radiates an ever-present aura of power and greatness, like somebody coming from Spain's most important history, from an era of warriors, knights, nobles and Kings….

_--I have very big problems, my son, Don Julián_—he was his most trusted accountant—_has redefined his loyalties_,_ that scumbag has stolen very important data. You shall recover it._

In my mind space displays its true form, a conjunction of coordinates perfectly interwoven, I can see how Don Julián moves awkwardly between those intersections, he's running, running from us.

I leap from tree to tree, like that Weissmuller guy, with my eyes closed, performing inhuman manoeuvres, impossible pirouettes. Very close to me is Gargoyle: Alexandre Babecq, a French pyrokinetic mutant with hyper-dense membranous claws and wings, he's a crazy bastard.

-- _What are we going to do with Don Julián when we catch him, León_?—He asks me smiling, showing his vampire-like fangs.

-- _You and Unholy will torture him to discover the reason why he robbed that information from my father. What we always do._

_--Works for me_—He said while starting to fly higher.

I continued to jump from tree to tree, some branches creaking, it was a wonderful way of feeling alive, the rush of adrenaline was so strong I could taste it like last's night alcohol. Karla was twenty two meters behind me on the ground, whilst Unholy ( the deranged nun ) had turned invisible but given her age, she was a long way behind us.

Don Julián stopped because of a huge rock blocking his way, he was exhilarated, scared, weak, shabby… he was coughing and spitting, his face red… I jumped from a tree landing in front of him with intentional animal grace.

-- _Well, well, well; You were my God-father Don Julián, like a surrogate father to me_—I unsheathed one sword and placed the shiny edge on his throat, a drop of blood tickled—_Why?_

_--Just because of you, child, he didn't tell you all the truth… About your true origin, about The Pathfinders. _– He said with great effort, almost choking.

_--Pathfinders? I'm The Pathfinder. What on earth are you talking about?_—He handed me a CD-ROM intriguingly named as "The Pathfinders"

_-- Poor little child, a mere pawn… How naïve… thinking you are in charge! They will kill you… too…_-- And he stopped abruptly, Karla was standing six meters behind me as well as two meters. That was her precious power, she was able to be in two places at the same time for a brief period of time. A spatial anomaly. Both Karlas had fired their bows, the poisoned arrows had pierced Don Julián's heart.

I still had the CD-ROM in my hands. Unholy was abut to arrive in a few minutes and Alexander was flying in circles above me. I saw their erratic positions in my mind and created a pattern.

--_ What did he tell you?_—Karla asked in a commanding tone of voice. She was pointing at me with her ultra-sophisticated bow, the second Karla faded like an ill-tuned TV channel.

--_Nothing sweetie. What's going on? Wha….?_

And she fired her bow.

She took me by surprise. Skilled as I was, I couldn't manage to dodge every arrow.

I was lying on the ground, bleeding, poison running through my entire system. Betrayed by the woman I loved; a woman I would have given my live for without questioning. My mind engulfed by darkness, my insides burning, my blood boiling… My very self… dissipating. There were six more people in the forest, gunshots…

_Obscurity_ _one more time_.


End file.
